


Breaking Physics (is hard on your secret identity)

by Nautika



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU, Superman - All Media Types
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Dc Villains - Freeform, Gen, Gotham City Police Department, Identity Porn, Identity Reveal, Kidnapping, Kryptonite, M/M, Mistaken for criminals, Rescue, Reveal, Secret Identity, Secret Identity Fail, Stuff gets blown up, Threats of Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-10
Updated: 2019-10-14
Packaged: 2019-10-25 21:20:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 14,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17732882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nautika/pseuds/Nautika
Summary: Batman has a job for mild mannered reporter Clark Kent - investigate Lex Luthor's secret lab. How to get inside? Why, as Bruce Wayne's plus-one, of course!Things get complicated when the lab blows up and Luthor needs a scapegoat.-----------------------------------------------Clark yelped in surprise when his window opened and Gotham’s very own Batman climbed in. “Uhm, can I help you..?” he asked the Dark Knight standing in his bedroom, acutely aware of the Batman pyjamas he was wearing - thanks, Lois - but the Batman didn’t seem to notice.





	1. Bruce Wayne's plus-one

**Author's Note:**

> So this is my first time playing in the DC Universe. Don't expect any kind of continuity here ^^; 
> 
> At this point, there is no Justice League. Batman and Superman know of each other but haven't met yet.
> 
>  
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters and there's not money involved.

 

**Today**

 

“We won’t make it!” Clark screamed, clinging to Batman.

“Of course we will!” Batman yelled back, flooring the Batcycle’s pedal. Behind them, Gotham PD in its entirety seemed to be out for their blood, chasing them on a road blocked by even more police cars. Batman’s cape flapped behind him, hitting Clark in the face every turn they took. The blockade came closer and closer with no way to drive around it - but there was some road construction stuff, which Batman seemed determined to use as a ramp to jump over the blockade. Clark knew that Batman knew that it couldn’t possibly work without breaking the laws of physics, but well. It wasn’t like they had any other choice, now, did they? Short of getting arrested, they were pretty much out of options at this point - so breaking physics it was.

And breaking physics they did. Sort of. Batman went over the ramp and Clark let go of the Dark Knight in order to get a hold on the Batcycle, flying them as low-key as possible over the blockade. He let go right after, so the Batcycle made for a pretty convincingly hard landing before driving off, leaving the horde of Police Cars behind.

“...huh,” said Clark. “Look at that, we did make it.”

Batman scoffed. “I told you so, Kent,” he said, trying to hide his obvious confusion and disbelieve. Clark could hear it clear as day, though.

“Sooo… now what?” he asked, putting his arms around the Bat again.

Batman grunted. “We find a spot to lie low for a while,” he replied after a while. Clark only nodded. Everything had started so well. How could it have come to this?

 

* * *

  

**One week earlier**

 

Clark yelped in surprise when his window opened and Gotham’s very own Batman climbed in. “Uh, can I help you..?” he asked the Dark Knight standing in his bedroom, acutely aware of the Batman pyjamas he was wearing - thanks, Lois - but the Batman didn’t seem to notice.

“Yes,” Batman said, fixing his intense stare at Clark, who tried not to squirm. It wasn’t rational, he knew that. Superman didn’t squirm - but on the other hand, it was hard not to when Batman looked at him like this. He waited, but the Bat didn’t elaborate.

“...okay?” Clark prompted and got glared at for his troubles. Finally, Batman nodded. “I’ve monitored your actions these last few months. You’re an investigative reporter with a conscience - a good one at that - and your skills might be useful,” he growled, reaching into his belt and producing a piece of paper. He held it in front of Clark. “These are informations on a secret facility LexCorp seems to be working on. There is Kryptonite involved and that can’t be good for anyone, especially Superman,” Batman glared and Clark’s heart jumped into his throat. The Bat knew?

“Why should I care about Superman?” Clark asked carefully anyway and Batman scoffed.

“Please,” he said, “everyone knows you’re friends with the big blue boy scout. And even if you weren’t, you’re making money off him, so I doubt you want anything happening to him, now, do you?”

Clark shook his head. “Alright, you got me there.” He squinted at Batman. “...but why do you care? Far as I know, you two are not on speaking terms,” he said with suspicion.

Batman’s face seemed to get even grumpier. “None of your concern,” he growled, not leaving any room for questions. Clark deemed it wise not to demand them, for the moment.

They stood there, staring each other down, Batman in his full gear, Clark in his pyjamas. Finally Batman grunted. “Read those instructions and do your own research. You have five days. On the sixth day you’ll be able to get up close to the facility.”

Clark furrowed his brows. “How?” he asked, causing Batman to nod again. “Luthor will host an event on top of the facility. You’ll go there and collect information. Sneak off, if possible and safe,” he said, handing Clark a burner and walking closer to the window. “Wait for further instructions.”

Clark laughed. “I don’t think I’m invited to this event, Batman,” he said, and Batman smirked sharply. “You’re not,” he said matter of factly. “You’re a plus-one.”

“Oh?” Clark blinked. “Who’s plus-one am I?”

“Bruce Wayne’s,” Batman said, flinging himself out of the window and disappearing into the night.

 

* * *

 

**Six days later**

 

The information Batman had handed him had checked out and Clark was… concerned. There was a decent amount of Kryptonite involved that Lex seemed to have his hands on, which really wasn’t a good thing. He tried to straighten his bow tie, but Lois batted his hands away. “Hands off, Smallville, you’ll just ruin it again,” she grumbled, fixing his clothes and grabbing his hands in time to stop him from running them through his hair.

“Invited by Bruce freaking Wayne while I’m standing on the sidelines,” she seethed, “why didn’t you ever tell me you knew _Bruce Wayne_?”

Clark didn’t really have an answer for her. He didn’t know Bruce Wayne, but if ever told Lois that he was just following _Batman’s_ instructions, well. Lois would probably toss him out of the window then and there. He fidgeted. “I don’t really know him,” he tried for as much honesty as possible. “I ran into him a couple of times. Maybe he remembers me from an article I wrote and wants to get to know me better? I might have impressed him?” he said, eyes in full puppy-dog mode. Lois just stared him down and shook her head. “Honestly, Kent, I don’t know how you’re that good of a reporter and that bad of a liar at the same time,” she said, finishing dusting off his clothes. “Just promise me to tell me everything afterwards,” she added before reconsidering. “On the other hand, he’s a known playboy. If he invites you for breakfast, that I do not need to know,” she nodded and Clark sputtered. He didn't have to answer, though, as the doorbell chose that moment to announce Bruce Wayne’s arrival. Clark took one last look in the mirror and nodded to himself. His suit wasn’t the most expensive, but at least it didn’t look too cheap. He turned to Lois, awaiting her approval nervously.

Her features softened as much as possible for Lois, and she smiled at him. “Go get him, tiger,” she said, dragging him bodily out of the door and onto the street, where Bruce Wayne was waiting for him in all his rich glory.

Clark was saved from awkwardly introducing himself by Lois, who had no qualms whatsoever to stab a finger at Wayne’s chest. “I don’t know why you chose my colleague here for this little adventure,” she practically growled, causing Wayne to raise his eyebrows, “but if anything happens to him, I’m holding you responsible!” she finished, taking a step back. Clark was torn between pride and mortification, but Lois just smiled sweetly at Wayne as if she hadn’t just threatened him with her index finger.

Wayne, to his credit, seemed to be undecided between being grudgingly impressed and irritated by Lois, so he just turned to Clark instead, holding a hand out for him to shake.

Clark shook it gratefully and Wayne smiled. “Thank you for your time, Mr. Kent,” he said. “I can’t wait to hear more about your article that won that one prize last month! Shall we?” He took Clark’s elbow and steered him to the car, giving Lois a wide berth. Lois just continued smiling with too much teeth, until Wayne’s chauffeur closed the door behind them.

 

The smalltalk was… nice, Clark supposed. Batman hadn’t said if Wayne knew about the Dark Knight’s plans or if he was just there to get Clark inside. Clark didn’t dare ask, of course, and Wayne gave no indication either way.

Before long, they made it halfway to Gotham, where Luthor’s event took place. Wayne gallantly helped Clark out of the car and led him inside, a hand on the small of his back. The security arrived to view their invitations, and Wayne showed it to them graciously.

Then they were finally inside and Clark took a careful look around. The elite of both Gotham and Metropolis seemed to be present, making smalltalk, accepting champagne and hors d'oeuvre. Wayne and Clark were no exceptions, with Clark eating his way through canapés and caviar.

When Luthor finally entered the stage under polite applause, Wayne excused himself to talk to an old friend.

Clark saw his chance and grabbed it with both hands, slowly making his way out of the room. If asked, he’d be on his way to the restroom, of course.

Nobody asked. Nobody even was there, and he was able to find a hidden elevator behind some wooden panels. He looked around, but there wasn’t anyone, so he entered the elevator. He didn’t know if Batman had meant “snooping around and breaking into the secret facility” when he’d asked him to collect information, but here he was and Batman didn’t know he’d made _Superman_ his sidekick anyway, so there.

One ride in the elevator later, Clark found himself in the secret lab. Or, not so secret, judging by the sheer number of people working there, with Clark in the middle as he stepped out of the cabin. Time to play it cool.

“Hi,” he smiled. “Any of you seen the restroom?”

 

* * *

 

So Kent had run off as instructed. That was good. Not good was that Kent wasn’t back yet, though.

Bruce sighed quietly. He’d known the only way to get inside Lex’ party was as Bruce Wayne - and that, once in, he wouldn’t get any chance to snoop around. Grudgingly, he’d gone to the only capable and honest reporter he’d know of. Clark Kent was widely known for his morals and for his connection to Superman. Honestly, Bruce wasn’t too sure how Kent wasn’t getting kidnapped every other day to try and blackmail Superman, but that wasn’t the problem at hand; that being him lacking one reporter.

Maybe Kent had found something? But the lab shouldn’t be working just yet, so he hadn’t expected too much trouble. Maybe Bruce had missed something? As soon as that thought entered his mind, he scoffed and waved it aside. Batman didn’t just miss something.

Maybe Kent had turned tail? Bruce frowned. That didn’t match with the reporter’s history of throwing himself into dangerous situations. No, it had to be something else.

His thoughts got interrupted by an alarm blaring furiously.

...goddamnit Kent.

 

* * *

 

Clark could hear the alarm many floors above him and knew that he’d blown it. He also couldn’t exactly just fly out of here with all those eyes (and presumably cameras) looking at him. Before long, some grumpy looking security trained their weapons on him and Clark raised his arms, obeyed their orders, and ended up in a small cell. Why a lab had a cell was anyone’s guess.

He didn’t have to strain his hearing to follow their conversations and thoughts on how to deal with the intruder. Many a suggestion was made and all of them ended with him very dead. If he had been human, anyway, but Clark wasn’t too keen on them finding out that that wasn’t exactly the case here.

He sat there for hours, waiting. Lex Luthor even had shown up, recognizing Clark as a _Daily Planet_ reporter. Finally, one scientist suggested to test the ‘green stuff’ on him, see if it had any affect on a human. Clark wasn’t a fan of that scientist, he decided. Also, he really needed to get the fuck out of here before they actually managed to kill Superman.

As he was preparing himself to just fly out, consequences be damned, the lights went out and the distinctive sounds of a fight in progress could be heard. Ah, well. Seemed like help had arrived. Clark breathed a sigh of relief and settled down to play the damsel in distress.

He didn’t have to wait long - not two minutes later, Batman appeared in all his leathery glory, glowering at Clark. “I told you to collect information,” he growled, “not to get yourself caught.” Clark smiled apologetically while the Dark Knight picked the lock. “To be fair, I hadn’t planned on that either,” he said, stepping out of the cell. “Thanks for saving me.”

Batman harrumphed and silently motioned for Clark to follow him. The elevator was out of order now, but Batman shot a grappling line up and Clark just hung on for the ride.

 

They were the only ones above the ground, everyone else had left hours ago. As they made their way out side, they ran into Lex Luthor handling something looking suspiciously like a detonator - but Lex wouldn’t. He was an arsehole, but he wouldn’t murder all his scientists, Clark was sure of it.

Luthor smirked at them. “Well, can’t say I hadn’t hoped to bury you here together with those useless idiots,” he said and shrugged. “Can’t have everything in life, though. At least now I have scapegoats,” he laughed.

Then he pulled the trigger before neither Batman nor Superman were able to stop him.

 

* * *

 

**Today**

 

The loud _boom_ still rang in Clark’s ears, one day later. They hadn’t stuck around to set the record straight, nobody would even believe them, Batman had been sure of it.

Clark had tried to call the police to try to explain that it hadn’t been them, but of course his word was nothing against Lex Luthor’s. He hadn’t dared call Lois yet, afraid of her reaction.

Deep in thought, still clinging to Batman, he suddenly stiffened. “Shit,” he said, “Bruce Wayne!” There was moment of silence before Batman’s deep voice asked “what about him?”

Clark shook his head. “I totally forgot, what with all this stuff happening! Is he okay?” he asked, sounding concerned until Batman nodded. “Yes,” the Dark Knight said, “he is. Don’t worry, he made it out in time.”

Tension left Clark’s body and he sighed in relief. “Good, that’s good. I kinda liked him.”

Batman’s answer was interrupted by a quiet beeping noise and the Batcycle came to a stop. Clark tilted his head curiously. “What is it?” he asked, trying to get a look at whatever device was beeping. Instead, he got a good look at Batman’s shoulders dropping slightly. “The bomb,” Batman said. “It left a cavern underground.” He looked at the readings of whatever electronic thing had gotten him that information.

Clark lost his patience. “Okay, and? What does that mean?”

Batman turned his head, and looked at Clark over his shoulder. “It means there might be survivors. We have to go back.”

 


	2. Inside the Manor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heeey it only took me half a year to write a second chapter. Go me!  
> Also, this is a CWC aka "Continuity, What Continuity?"

 

 

“Please, tell me again, why I can’t go home and try to explain all that happened? Or at least lie low somewhere else?” Clark asked, still clinging to the Batbike.

Batman sighed quietly enough that a normal human being wouldn’t have heard it, but Clark certainly did. 

“We’ve been over this four times now, Kent,” the Dark Knight said. “You can’t go home, you’d be arrested immediately and if you were especially unlucky, Lex Luthor would come and gloat. You really want that? All those scientists found a way out and are now blaming you and me, as nobody wants to go against Lex Luthor.”

“No…” Clark sulked, “but what about going somewhere else?”

“Not safe,” Batman grunted.

“Not safe?” Clark repeated. “But how is Wayne Manor safe?” he asked just as they passed the gates to Bruce Wayne’s humble mansion. “Does Wayne know who you are?” 

Clark was pretty sure Bruce Wayne knew nothing at all. He hadn’t exactly been the airhead everyone made him out to be, but also didn’t strike him as trustworthy enough to handle Batman’s secret identity.

Batman just grunted. “He doesn’t, no. Of course not. But he owes me a favor, and I’m collecting,” he said as the Batbike came to a stop right in front of the front doors and Clark was just climbing off the bike when those doors opened, revealing an elderly gentleman standing there, who’s eyebrows immediately went up to his hairline.

“Mr. Batman,” the gentleman said. “How can I be of service at this time of night?”

If Clark didn’t know better, he’d say Batman was squirming uncomfortably - but no, that surely was just Clark’s imagination running wild. 

Batman rose to his full height. “He will be staying with Wayne for the foreseeable future, Mr. Pennyworth,” he said in a gruff voice, which didn’t disturb Mr. Pennyworth in the least.

“Does he now,” Mr. Pennyworth said. “I don’t believe I have the authority to do so, I shall wake Master Wayne for this conversation,” he said and walked off into the manor. 

Clark blinked and slowly looked at Batman - who was about to start up the Batbike and turn tail.

“Hey!” Clark yelled at him, remembering at the last moment to tune it down to a normal-human-yell, “what if Bruce Wayne kicks me out?”

“He won’t,” Batman grunted back, reffing his bike.

“But what if? And what about you, aren’t you in danger, too?”

Batman actually snorted. “Please. I’m Batman,” he said, and sped down the driveway, just as rain began to fall, soaking Clark in seconds. 

The doors opened again and Mr. Pennyworth lifted an eyebrow at the sight of him. 

“Mr. Kent, please come inside. Master Wayne is awake and will be with you shortly. As will some dry clothes,” he said, stepping aside and motioning for Clark to come in. 

Clark blinked and slowly followed the invitation, wondering the whole time what the hell kind of grave he had dug for himself. But however deep it was, he now had to lie in it or he might get exposed. So he smiled at Mr. Pennyworth, thanked him and stepped inside.

 

* * *

 

Bruce Wayne took his sweet time waking up and walking down the hallways, it seemed. When he finally arrived, his hair was still wet from the shower he’d taken, because one “can’t meet guests in a bathrobe and bed-hair”. Alright then. To be fair to the guy, it _was_ the middle of the night and the party they’d been to together one day ago had gotten blown up, so there was that. 

Clark smiled at him. “Mr. Wayne, thank you for having me,” he said politely, but Wayne just waved it aside.

“Alfred told me that Batman asked to let you stay here, and I owe him a favor,” Wayne shrugged. “This seems a rather simple thing to do for the protector of Gotham.”

Clark could have sworn he’d seen Mr. Pennyworth’s lips twitch slightly at that. Must have been his imagination again. 

He cleared his throat. “I don’t know about that, but can I just say, I am glad you’re alright. I was afraid you hadn’t made it out alive,” Clark told Wayne honestly, but again, the other just shrugged.

“Mr. Kent, I get kidnapped and threatened all the time because some low-life thinks that’s the way they can get to my money. I will admit, nearly getting blown up is not a usual occurrence, but I’m not shaken so easily,” he said and smirked.

Clark blinked. Alright, he hadn’t thought to find Wayne so composed and holding it together. Huh. He might have underestimated him after all. 

Outwardly, he nodded. “Understandable,” he said. 

Wayne smirked again before yawning.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me - I have a board meeting in the morning,” he said. “Please make yourself comfortable. Alfred will be happy to set up a room for you and fix you something to eat. As I’ve heard the news, I’m going to assume you’re in hiding here, so please try to not do anything that would compromise your being here. After all, my head seems to be in this now, too.” 

Wayne nodded one last time at him, then retired to his room, and Clark felt a bit at a loss for the second time in just one hour, until Alfred took pity on him. 

“Mr. Kent, I’ve taken the liberty and set up a room for you while you were waiting for Master Wayne,” he said. “Please follow me.”

And Clark did just that. After all, he really had to lie low for a while. 

Well. Clark Kent did. 

Superman, on the other hand, did not, so he had no reason to stay when he could be out there, investigating.

Clark eyed the bed. It seemed pretty soft and cosy.

Eh, the last days _had_ been stressful, he reasoned as he slowly sank into the softest mattress he’d ever had the pleasure of sinking into. 

He’ll just rest his eyes for a little while, Clark decided. And in the morning, he’d make up an excuse why he couldn’t stay, Batman be damned, and be on his way to solve this shitshow. 

Yes. Good plan, he thought, and fell asleep.

 

* * *

 

“Tt,” a voice said.

Clark turned his back to it and tried to ignore the presence he felt standing in his doorway. Didn’t feel threatening in the least, so it didn’t take long for him to nearly fall asleep again.

“Tt,” the voice repeated, and Clark frowned as he slowly remembered the previous days and why an unknown presence might not be that good of a thing. 

He shuffled around until he got himself untangled from the sheets without ripping them and stood up to face the door. 

The kid standing there might reach his chest, if he got on his toes, so Clark looked down and was greeted with green eyes, spiky hair, a wrinkled up nose and the most casually disgusted expression he’d ever seen on a kid of about… eleven years?

“Uh,” he said intelligently.

The kid somehow managed to scrunch his nose up even further. 

“Father was wrong,” he said, “you _do_ seem to be an imbecile. Nevertheless, Pennyworth asked me to tell you that breakfast is ready.”

And with that the kid turned around and stalked away, leaving Clark somewhat dumbfounded behind, unsure of his next actions. 

Luckily, his stomach made itself known, and he decided to follow the kid’s… invitation? Clark shrugged. Whatever that was, he was hungry and breakfast sounded great, so with a _whush_ he was ready to go downstairs. 

To his surprise, he found the kid as well as Bruce Wayne at the table, with an empty chair just waiting for him. Good Mornings were exchanged and Clark sat down, hungrily shoveling food onto his plate and stuffing it into his mouth.

Of course, he was aware of the kid blatantly staring at him the whole time, but, well. There was food, so he didn't really care.

At least not until the kid began to speak again.

“Father, I must say. I understand that having me caused you to be more careful with your carnal relationships, but don’t you think this is a bit extreme?” he asked, gesturing at Clark, who immediately choked on his food.

Wayne himself got red in the face. 

“Damian,” he hissed under his breath, “it’s not like that! Mr. Kent is staying with us for a while because of a witness protection program, nothing more!”

One of Damian’s eyebrows rose. “Of course, father,” he said, sounding as if he’d summoned a world’s worth of sarcasm. 

Clark tried to gain his breath. “It’s true, uhm. Mister Wayne?” he tried.

Damian immediately grew three centimeters, but Bruce Wayne shook his head. 

“Please, let us not be so formal anymore. Call me Bruce, and this is my son, Damian. I apologize for not introducing you before, but I thought he had already done that when he woke you up,” Bruce Wayne said, shooting Damian a look. Damian just shrugged and picked at his food.

Now Clark finally remembered that Bruce had a son, it made the press some years ago. He nodded and smiled at the two Waynes. 

“If that’s the case, then call me Clark,” he said.

Bruce returned his smile and stood up.

“Now that that’s done, please excuse me,” he said, and left the table, with Damian following suit, leaving Clark alone and behind. Again.

Clark was getting frustrated with being left behind and unsure of what to do. He thought about snooping around with his powers and x-ray-vision, but was afraid to discover things a normal human being couldn’t discover and blabbering about it with his big mouth, so he decided to play unpowered ordinary human and just go about his day.

At nightfall, though, he’d super up and try to find out why Lex Luthor does experiments with kryptonite, where he got it from and what he, Superman, could do about it.

And, oh yeah, maybe clear his and Batman’s name, so that he could continue living his normal, ordinary human life. 

 

* * *

 

Nightfall finally came and Clark lay in his bed as the butler seemed to make his nightly round. He heard his door opening and pretended to sleep, as the butler looked inside and then, satisfied, closed the door after himself.

Clark decided to listen a teeny-tiny bit with his super hearing, just to make sure nobody was about to interrupt his ‘sleep’ again, but the butler’s steps took him to his own room, clearly retiring for the night.

Satisfied, he _whushed_ himself into his Superman outfit and took off into the Gotham night, and further down to the still smoking remains of Lex Luthor’s facility. 

Unsurprisingly, the Batman had beaten him to it, towering over some beeping gadget that told Clark exactly nothing, but seemed to hold the Dark Knight’s full attention, right until Superman dropped down next to him.

Clark cleared his throat and tried to control his vocal cords in an attempt to make it unrecognizable to the world’s greatest detective. He’d never done this before, but he thought going for _dark_ and _gruff_ would work just fine. 

“I heard you were here when this went down,” Superman chirped, and Clark inwardly cringed. Gosh dangit, muscle control! He couldn’t see it, but he was pretty sure Batman’s eyebrows just went all the way up. 

“Superman.” The Dark Knight glowered at him. “What are you doing here.”

Clark was pretty sure it was a question, even if it hadn’t sounded like one. He shrugged.

“Investigating, same as you are,” he said. “Heard you were the one to blow it up. You and that reporter, Clark Kent,” he said, carefully.

Batman showed no outward reaction and just grunted “you heard wrong. It was Lex Luthor.”

Superman nodded slowly. “That’s what I thought, actually. Kent told me about some experiments with kryptonite and that you wanted to stop Luthor. Uh, thanks for that, I guess,” he said, smiling at Batman, and because deep down he was a bit of an asshole, he tilted his head. 

“Speaking of - where is Kent?” he asked, letting a bit of worry shine through.

Again, Batman just grunted. “Safe.” … and Clark. Clark got an idea. 

He licked his lips.

“Safe, huh? I mean… I could watch over him?” he said casually. “Where could he be safer than with me?”

Batman snorted at him. “With me, of course,” he said, and Clark furrowed his brows.

“But you’re here. And Kent is not. So, what do you mean, he’s with you?” he asked.

Batman sighed again. “I know you’re worried for your friend, and you don’t really trust me. The same goes for me, so I won’t tell you. But believe me when I say, that at this moment, he’s safe and protected. One of my associates is actually scheduled to check on him every hour.”

“Uh. Check on him?” Clark’s Superman-voice chirped.

A tiny smirk crossed Batman’s mouth. “Check on him doesn’t sound as creepy as ‘watch him sleep’, I’d say.”

Fortunately for Superman it was dark enough that Batman might not see him blanch. 

So someone was ‘checking on him’ every hour? He counted back and, oh. It had been fifty-seven minutes since the butler had checked on him.

Gosh darn!


	3. Bedroom Conversation

Clark managed to fly inside his bedroom, _whush_ himself out of his cape, and slip under his blankets right before the door quietly opened and a slim figure appeared. 

The person, who was decidedly not the butler, must have heard his small noise of surprise, because the door opened further and a guy in a police uniform took one step inside.

“Mr. Kent?” the guy asked, “are you awake?”

Pretending to still be asleep wasn’t really an option anymore, and also, Clark was pretty curious who this new guy was, because it had to be an associate of Batman, right? 

“I’m awake, yes,” Clark said, and switched on the light. “Uh, and you are..?”

“Oh! I’m sorry!” the officer apologized, “Alfred asked me to check on you and see if everything is alright. Poor guy has to sleep _sometime_ , you know, and so I told him not to worry, I could just step in, seeing as it’s really not that far from Bludhaven - where I live - and I’m happy to come home from time to time. Alfred makes the best breakfast after all, you know?” 

Clark couldn’t help himself, he had to smile as the guy just kept on rambling and pacing the room.

“...anyway, and that’s why I’m here,” the guy finally finished, shooting Clark a sunny smile.

Clark tilted his head. “So you’re not here to arrest me in my borrowed pajamas, yes?” he asked the police officer, who blinked at him, confused.

“Uh. No?” he tried, furrowing his brow, “should I?”

Clark thought it was kind of adorable, but he slowly stood up anyway, crossing his arms. He had to know if there was any danger of getting arrested now, because if so, he definitely had to fling himself out of the window as soon as possible.

“You do know who I am, yes?” Clark asked, and the officer nodded.

“Sure do, Mr. Kent,” he smiled, but Clark must have made the guy nervous, because as soon as he stood up from the bed, the officer's heartbeat elevated.

Clark licked his lip. He had to treat carefully here, in case the officer didn’t know that Clark Kent was a wanted man at the moment. 

“And you know why I’m here?” he inquired tentatively.

The officer nodded again. “Of course, you’re a fugitive hiding from the law,” he said, still confused.

“Exactly,” Clark said expectantly. 

The officer just blinked, and Clark finally sighed. 

“Okay, so I, as a fugitive, ask again: do I have to make a quick escape out of that window or are you not going to arrest me, _Officer_?”

The guy furrowed his brow and looked down at himself, before he finally seemed to make the connection.

“Oh! Ah, I forgot, sorry, I just got off work and didn’t have the time to change. No, I’m not going to arrest you, Batman assured me you’re not guilty of doing anything wrong,” he said.

Clark smirked. “So now you’re telling me, a reporter, that you’re letting a wanted man go on grounds of the word of a bat-themed vigilante and are, as such, condoning vigilantism? You’re kinda digging your own grave here, you know that, right? Are you even a real police officer? You still haven’t told me your name.”

The guy glowered at him. “There’s just no winning this with you, is there?” he grunted. “Yes, I am a real police officer. How about a deal: I don’t arrest you and you’re not writing an article about how Bruce Wayne’s son sometimes talks with the Batman, alright?”

Clark’s eyebrows shot up. “Bruce’s son?” he blinked.

The officer’s lips twitched and he held out a hand for Clark to shake. “Richard Grayson, call me Dick, nice to meet you.” 

Clark rolled his eyes and shook the hand. “You could have started with that, you know? I was contemplating knocking you out and making a run for it,” he babbled and immediately slapped a hand over his mouth. Admitting to considering violence in order to make an escape is probably not something you want to tell a police officer.

But Dick Grayson just laughed at that. “Thanks for the warning, I’ll make sure to stay out of reach,” he said. “But now I will leave you for the night. See you at the breakfast table, Mr. Kent!”

“Call me Clark,” Clark smiled.

Dick grinned. “Will do,” he said, bowing playfully low, and losing his police hat in the process, which promptly rolled under the bed. 

Clark snickered as Dick went to retrieve the hat, laughing, but slowly stilled as the officer didn’t get back up.

“Uh, Dick?” he asked the man, who was still on his knees in front of the bed.

As Dick finally got back up, he had the hat in his left hand.

In his right hand, however, was something else entirely, and Dick looked at Clark with wide eyes.

“When was Superman here?” he asked, holding up the cape and pants Clark had kicked under the bed after whushing out of it. 

Crap. He should have eaten it.

 

* * *

 

“Naked?” Dick asked.

“Uh, what?” Clark blinked at him.

“Well, if Superman came looking for you, but scattered like a cockroach as soon as he heard someone coming… he must have flown away naked, as his costume is still here.”

“Uh..” Clark said intelligently. 

“And why did he take it off in the first place?” Dick asked.

“Uh..” Clark said.

“I mean, normally there are three times a hero might take off their costume,” Dick said, holding up a finger. “One: he wants a shower. Two: Sex. Three: Well, the guy can’t be Superman all the time, he’s got to have an civilian identity. Sooo… which is it, _Clark_?”

Clark harrumphed. “You _are_ an officer, alright. He went to take a shower, but you interrupted.”

Dick grinned. “Eeeeh wrong. This room doesn’t have a bathroom, why would he take the costume off here? He’d have to cross the hallway, naked. And why the hell would he want to take a shower _here_? Nope, don’t believe it. Nice try, though.”

Clark huffed. “Fine. You got me. I’m sleeping with Superman. Happy now?”

Dick tilted his head in a way that told Clark the other was pitying him, then licked his lips.

“You know what? Damian was right. You are kind of a klutz,” Dick said, and Clark bristled, affronted, and was about to defend himself, when Dick held up a hand and looked him in the eye.

“Only my brother just thought Clark Kent was a klutz, not realising that makes Superman one, too,” Dick said, smiling at him.

Clark furrowed his brow nervously. “What do you mean?” he asked, and Dick gestured at him. Clark looked down, and oh. 

“Oh,” he said, shoulders dropping at seeing the stylized “S” on his chest. He'd only whushed himself out of the cape and pants. Gosh darn. “Ah. I see. Uhm.”

He pursed his lips and looked away. “Well, it’s not like I had much time to change,” he finally grumbled, and Dick’s eyes went wide.

“You’re really him?” he asked with something akin to wonder in his voice, and Clark snapped.

“Come on, drop it. What was that all about if you knew the entire time?” he said, irritated.

There was a moment of silence as Dick looked at him, before answering.

“Well, that’s just it. I didn’t.” Dick said.

Clark scoffed, but the younger man only shrugged. “You could have been just a fan that bore a resemblance to Superman. Wasn’t sure until your confirmation just now.”

Now it was Clark’s turn to gape. “You mean to tell me, I could have just said that and you would have believed me?”

Dick smiled at him. “Well, yes? I mean, that would be a okay-ish explanation? I just wanted to rile you up with my three theories.”

“.... fucking unbelievable,” Superman huffed.

“So now what? Are you going to tell anyone? Bruce? Batman? The police?” he asked the officer.

Dick shook his head. “Not my secret to tell,” he said, and Clark raised an eyebrow, doubtfully.

“You do know that many people would pay you a large amount of money for that information, right?” he said.

Dick blinked at him. “Do I look like I need money? Bruce Wayne is my dad-of-sorts. I need anything I can’t afford through my job, I ask him, and I don’t sell identities. Do you think the Batman would trust me to look after the reporter he’d promised to protect if he didn’t trust me?”

That got Clark’s attention. “You know who the Batman is?”

Dick looked like he wished he could swallow his last sentence. “Lying to Superman doesn’t work, does it?”

Clark shook his head.

Dick sighed. “I know, yes. So you can trust me when I say, I wouldn’t do anything to harm you, alright?”

Clark took a long look at the younger man, still in his police uniform, sunny smile hiding right behind an earnest expression, and, despite himself, Clark felt there was something about Richard Grayson that made him trust him.

So he nodded and held out his hand to shake, which Dick took with a beaming smile.


	4. Face the acid

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After two talky chapters, have some action again :D

 

“You know,” Clark said, dangling from the ceiling by his wrists, “that wasn’t exactly how I pictured the evening to go.”

Batman, currently in the process of trying to free his own wrists from the chains that dangled the both of them over two huge pots containing some sort of bubbling-hot liquid, just grunted.

“When you climbed through my window and in your polite way told me to come with you, I kinda thought we were going to investigate the  _ Incident _ ,” Clark continued.

Batman, currently in the process of trying to saw through his chains with the Batknife he’d somehow produced from his glove, just grunted.

“I mean, not that I’m complaining. I liked driving in the Batmobile and everything, don’t get me wrong, but the result isn’t exactly a comfortable one,” Clark said, squirming in his chains. Not that it hurt, of course, but one has to keep up appearances. 

Batman, currently in the process of trying to get the chain to swing enough for him to get a hold of that gangway railing above the big pots with his feet, just grunted.

“Furthermore, I don’t get why you needed me in the first place,” Clark complained. He’d wanted to go out as Superman when the Dark Knight opened the window and climbed on his bedpost like a gargoyle. 

Batman, currently in the process of seemingly giving up and just hanging next to Clark, grunted one word: “Fingerprint.”

“It talks!” Clark would have thrown up his hands in celebration if that hadn’t been a bit suspicious. “But what do you mean, ‘fingerprint’?”

“Needed your fingerprint for a door at the Daily Planet,” Batman huffed.

Clark gaped at him. “Are you kidding me? You’re Batman, you can get into the Planet’s archive without me!”

Batman looked like he would shrug if that were possible while dangling from the ceiling. “Sure, but you could have helped me look through the stuff. Would have been faster.”

“Faster.” Clark repeated. 

Batman nodded, and Clark looked up with a “give me strength”, before shooting a smirk at the Dark Knight.

“So what I’m hearing here is that you value my companionship, yes?”

“Tch, don’t be ridiculous, Kent,” Batman scoffed. 

“You do,” Clark grinned.

“Keep telling yourself that.” Batman shook his head.

“I grew on you!”

“Like fungus.”

“Aww come on, that’s not nice.”

“I  _ am  _ not nice! I’m Batman!”

“Ah, I hate to interrupt this quarrel,” Two-Face said from the gangway, “but aren’t you forgetting something?”

Clark blinked. He had indeed forgotten the villain who was responsible for them dangling there in the first place. 

“Are we?” he asked, shooting Batman a look, who just shook his head.

“You are!” Two-Face’ other half snapped. “I caught a little birdie and I suppose it’s time for him to learn the importance of making decisions,” he said, nodding at some henchmen, who dragged a bound, blindfolded, and struggling Nightwing on the gangway.

Clark tensed and he began to float a little before he caught himself again. He’d never met Nightwing before, but from what he’d heard, the hero was loved by everyone, and he would be damned if he let anything happen to him. 

Batman next to him tensed in a similar way, just without floating, and was obviously trying to come up with a solution, and fast. 

Meanwhile Two-Face grabbed Nightwing’s chin, leaving the hero no option but to hold still and bare his teeth at the villain.

“Ah, none of that, little bird,” Two-Face said, patting Nightwing’s cheek. “But now you have to make a decision,” he sing-songed. “You have to choose between Batman and a poor, innocent civilian. One will live, for now, the other one will immediately fall to his death in boiling acid!”

Clark could see clearly how Nightwing began to tremble slightly, and he knew that Batman’s training wouldn’t leave Nightwing any choice in the matter, he had to save the civilian. Which meant that Clark had to ready himself to break free and catch Batman before the Dark Knight met his untimely demise in a pot of boiling acid. 

“Choose, little bird!” Two-Face grinned, but the hero shook his head No.

“I won’t play your game, Two-Face,” he hissed.

The villain chuckled. “Then they will both die, you know that. Oh, but I really should let you see your mentor one last time, now, shouldn’t I? Maybe you’ll decide to let the civilian die in the end?” he grinned and ripped off Nightwing’s blindfold.

The hero shook his head to clear it as soon as he could see again and glared at Two-Face through his domino mask. 

“It doesn’t matter, I won’t make the choice and-” he finally looked at Clark and Batman, still dangling above the boiling acid.

Ah, Clark thought, now it seemed to really sink in with the hero, that he had no other choice than to save the civilian. Clark tensed his muscles in preparation, just as Nightwing opened his mouth and-

“Batman. I choose Batman to live,” the young hero said. 

Two-Face grinned. “Good choice, getting rid of Batman and out of the Bat’s shadow and- wait, what?”

Nightwing grinned up at him. “Let the other guy fall into the acid,” he said. 

“What?” Two-Face said.

“Nightwing! We’ve talked about this!” Batman hissed.

And Clark? Clark was relieved, confused, and offended all at once. 

Two-Face, though, slowly recovered and tilted his head. 

“I’ll be honest, that’s not what I expected, but alright,” he murmured, pressed a button, and let Clark, who was too confused to float away, fall down.

Clark’s ears began to ring with the sound of Batman screaming for him in despair, but right as he was about to take a bath in boiling acid, someone grabbed his hands and yanked him up, over the pot, and down on the ground next to it. 

He looked up and was greeted with a skintight outfit with the symbol of the bat on it, and flowing ginger hair spilling out from under a mask. 

“Batgirl! What took you so long?” Nightwing yelled from above.

Two-Face, meanwhile, was kneading his temples and looked like he was about to get an aneurysm. 

“Fine!” the villain said, “I’ve still got Batman, who- uhm,” he blinked at the empty chains. 

“Who is standing right behind you,” Nightwing sing-songed and kicked the villain in the shin, right as the Dark Knight finished knocking out the henchmen.

Clark watched from the floor as the three Bats tied the bad guys up and left them for the police to find, before the four of them made their way outside again. 

“Thanks for the rescue, Batgirl,” Nightwing smiled at her, and Clark got the impression the she rolled her eyes at him.

“Anytime, blue bird. But maybe be more careful next time?” she grinned at him, waved goodbye at Clark, and grappled away, leaving him alone in awkward silence with Batman and Nightwing.

Nightwing, the hero everyone loved. Everybody’s darling Nightwing. Who would always choose innocent lives above others. 

Well, except when it came to Clark, apparently. Not that it really mattered, he was  _ Superman  _ after all, but. It did hurt a teeny tiny bit, Clark thought. 

Maybe he had written something bad about him in the past? Clark wrecked his brain, but he couldn’t remember doing so. Maybe it had been something about one of Nightwing’s friends? Or about his civilian identity? No, he didn’t think so. So maybe Nightwing just didn’t like Clark Kent? The thought troubled him more than it really should have. Well, there was obviously also the possibility that the hero just didn’t know him. After all, why should he be aware of some reporter from Metropolis? Clark nodded to himself, that was the most likely explanation, and-

“Hey, Mr. Kent, you’re staying at Wayne Manor, right?” Nightwing cheerfully asked him, and there went that explanation. 

Clark tried not to scowl at him, but his “Yes.” came out more gruffly than intended, and Nightwing raised his eyebrows. 

“Then we will take you back there now?” the young hero asked more carefully than before.

Clark didn’t want to go back to the Manor just yet. He didn’t think he could deal with the possibility of a beaming Dick Grayson wanting to hear everything, so he shook his head.

“Thanks, but I’ll find my way back alone,” he grunted, and now Batman also tilted his head. 

“I don’t think that’s wise-” the Dark Knight began, but Clark interrupted him.

“Your wiseass led to us getting captured by freaking Two-Face to begin with. Where does Gotham even find those villains? I’ve never encountered people like that in Metropolis. So thanks, but no thanks, I’ll see you when I see you,” Clark said grumpily and walked as fast as humanly possible out of there, leaving Batman and Nightwing behind him. 

Of course, he couldn’t help but overhear their conversation for the next minutes until they sped off in the Batmobile.

“What the fuck, Nightwing?” Batman said, ripping the younger hero a new one. “We always choose the civilian! Why didn’t you? I would have been fine!”

“B, just… I had my reasons,” Nightwing responded calmly. “Trust me, it was way less stressful like this and-”

The Batmobile’s doors closed and Clark couldn’t hear their them anymore. Just as well. 

 

* * *

 

The way back through Gotham by night was interesting, to say the least.

Clark had opted for walking in order to get more familiar with the city. You never knew when that would come in handy. Also, he needed a long, calming walk right now.

As such, he, of course, ended up lost in Crime Alley. As you do. 

And as _he_ does, he stumbled upon a deal in progress between a mobster and what looked like a kid. Clark furrowed his brow, because that? That wouldn’t do. He was about to step in, only contemplating whether he should put on some kind of mask, when another guy seemed to have the same luck as him to stumble upon that deal. 

However, the other guy didn’t hesitate in the least, and immediately let his fists speak instead of his tongue. The mobster was down in seconds and all that was left for Clark to do was to stop the guy from killing the dealer, so he quickly stepped between them. 

“Out of my way,” the guy hissed, fury in his eyes.

“I really can’t let you do that,” Clark said softly. “Killing him isn’t the answer to this.”

The guy laughed. “Oh yeah? You sound like someone I know. Now leave, before I make you!”

Clark planted his feet. “You can certainly try, but it won’t do you any good and… wait a minute, I know you,” he said, squinting at the guy’s face. Then he blinked. “You’re one of Bruce’s kids, aren’t you?” Now that he had taken a good look at the kid, he could see that he wore a suit that might cost more than his monthly salary at the Planet. What was the kid doing here, dressed to the nines?

The guy scoffed. “Hardly a kid. But yeah, congrats, let me get you a parade and everything for recognizing me. Everyone in Gotham does, the papers are full of my ugly mug. Lost son returned and everything.”

Clark shook his head. “I don’t know about that, I’m not from Gotham. But I’m currently living at Wayne Manor, so your ‘ugly mug’ is kinda looking down on me from the pictures every day.”

“Oh, so you’re Clark Kent, our resident fugitive?” the Wayne kid grinned with too much teeth. “Now the question is - what are _you_ doing in Crime Alley when you could be chilling in the Manor, watching movies with Bruce and Dick?”

Clark managed not to squirm, but barely. “I could ask you the same question and-”

“Get down!!” the Wayne kid suddenly yelled, but it was too late. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the formerly knocked out mobster pointing a gun at the kid, and, not thinking at all, Clark stepped between them again, shielding the kid with his body as the bullets began to rain down on them. 

The mobster got more and more confused as his gun didn’t do him any good, and after the last bullet left the weapon, Clark marched over and knocked him out again.

The Wayne kid, meanwhile, was staring at him wide-eyed, and Clark tried to salvage the situation.

“Huh, he must have been a really crappy shot,” he said, dusting off his shirt, “he missed me entirely.” 

“He really didn't,” the kid said, pointing at at several holes in Clark’s shirt. Ah. Oops. 

“Those? Nah, I’ve got moths in the closet and-”

“I’m not stupid, you know?” the kid interrupted, and Clark gulped. 

“Didn’t say you were,” he said.

The kid tentatively stepped closer and Clark allowed him to examine the holes in the shirt and the unblemished skin beneath it, until the kid let out a dry laugh.

“Does Batman know he’s trying to protect  _ Superman _ ? Does Bruce Wayne know who’s living under his roof?” he asked.

“Who says I’m Superman?” Clark tried meekly, but the kid just gave him a  _ look _ . He sighed. “Look, kid-”

“Jason.”

Clark pursed his lips. “Jason,” he acknowledged. “They don’t know… and to be honest, I would prefer if that wasn't about to change,” he said.

Jason tilted his head. “Why?” he asked.

Clark shrugged a bit helplessly. “I will tell them, eventually. But I would like it to happen on my own terms and I don’t feel like this is the best moment to do it.”

Jason scoffed, but nodded. “Alright. I won’t tell anyone. Hell, you might be right. I mean, my brother Dick is such a blabbermouth, he’d probably let it slip after one glass of champagne,” he laughed.

Clark squirmed, and Jason gaped.

“Oh come on, how did  _ he  _ find out first? Oh man, I’ll never hear the end of it!”

And here Clark couldn’t help himself. He had to laugh. He was still laughing after Jason drove them both back to the Manor on his bike, with Clark clinging on, exactly like he did a few days ago on the Batbike. 

He had a feeling he could trust the two Wayne kids. 

 


	5. Fake it til you make it

“Tell me again: What am I doing here!” Clark squeaked while clinging to whatever he could reach in the Batmobile.

In the driver’s seat, Red Robin made a particularly harsh turn. “Mr. Kent,” he said annoyingly calm, “I already told you - there’s a situation at the Wayne Gala and Bruce Wayne needs your help.”

“Yes, yes, I heard you the first time,” Clark sank deeper into his seat, “but you didn’t explain what kind of- _watch out for that truck Jesus Christ!_ \- what kind of situation?”

Red Robin gritted his teeth. “Hostage situation,” he said. 

Clark looked at him. “...what?”

“Someone broke in uninvited and is now holding the whole party hostage,” Red Robin said. 

Clark blinked at him. Bruce was held hostage? That wouldn’t do, and that absolutely sounded like job for Superman… buuuut he was currently racing through the city in the Batmobile with Red Robin next to him. For some reason. 

Best to play along for the time being and then slipping away to rescue his, well. His friend? Had they really become friends in just a few weeks? Clark thought about movie nights and late-night conversations with Bruce, and surprising Dick with a flight over Gotham City. Yeah, okay, they were friends. 

He smiled stupidly, before shaking his head and coming back to the present. Right, hostage situation. He definitely had to get away from Red Robin.

Clark cleared his throat. “That’s horrible,” he said, “but how do you think _I’m_ going to be of any help?”

“Well,” Red Robin said, “thing is, there’s this rumor that Bruce Wayne is Batman.”

Clark nodded. “Heard about it, it’s pretty stupid.” Bruce was many things, but a superhero he was not. Of course Clark had given it some thought, as there had to be lots of money involved with being Batman, so Bruce Wayne had been a suspect from the start - but everytime someone asked him about it, he just laughed at it, and Clark had never once heard his heart stutter in any way.

Clark had also thought about the possibility of Dick being Batman, but there had been to many times when Dick Grayson had been saved by the Batman, so that was out, too.

Jason, though. Jason had been officially gone for years, and during those years the Batman had been pretty active. Granted, he’d been active before - but maybe, just maybe it was a title getting handed down? Clark didn’t know about Jason’s biological father, but maybe he’d been the Batman before him?

“So that rumor,” Clark asked, “what about it?”

Red Robin licked his lips. “Well, apparently the bad guys want to prove that Bruce Wayne is Batman. So they’re watching him like hawks, and if Batman doesn’t show up within the next hour, they say they’ll have their proof.”

Clark furrowed his brow. “That’s stupid and doesn’t prove anything. Batman might be on vacation.”

Red Robin actually snorted at that. “Sure. Vacation. Anyway, so now we kinda need Batman to show up.” He looked at Clark pointedly. 

Clark blinked. “What? I’m not Batman!” 

“No, you’re Superman, Mr. Kent,” Red Robin said, and Clark spluttered, “but I can’t reach Batman at the moment, so you’ll have to do.”

“Wha- I mean, I’m not.. I mean. I have Superman pajamas?” Clark tried, remembering how Dick found out.

Red Robin stared at him. “Uh, congrats? A bit weird, though, I have to admit.” 

Clark gave up. “Alright. How did you find out?”

“Uhm. Your disguise is a pair of glasses, and I’m pretty good at figuring things out. You do the math,” Red Robin said. 

“Fine,” Clark grumbled. “But I’m still not Batman.”

Red Robin looked at him and Clark swore he could see a gleam in his eyes through the mask. “Not yet, you’re not,” the younger hero said, and grinned. 

 

* * *

 

“I look stupid,” Clark said, reaching up to pet the cowl’s little ears.

Red Robin openly grinned at him. “Nah, you look like Batman.”

“Then Batman looks stupid,” Clark harrumphed. 

Red Robin shrugged and didn’t deny it. “Just remember not to use your superpowers.”

Clark nodded. “I’m pretty sure Batman won’t be too happy with me using his costume, though.”

“Nah, it’s fine. Now come on, we’ve only got fifty-five minutes left,” Red Robin said and grappled up, because of course the darn party had to be on the highest floor of Bruce’s highest building. Clark sighed, grabbed his own grapple gun, and shot a line up.

It fell immediately down again. 

Okay, so there was apparently more to this than just pointing and shooting, got it. Clark tried two more times, before he gave up, shot a line and quickly just flew up. 

Red Robin was standing on the roof, clearly amused. “Took you long enough, Batman. Out of practice, huh?”

Clark just muttered insults under his breath. “Okay, now just a moment, I’ll take a look,” he then said and used his x-ray vision to scan through the roof and look into the rooms beneath it. There were six people with guns and many without, three of which he knew.

He blinked and looked accusingly at Red Robin. “You said Bruce Wayne was held hostage. You never said anything about Dick Grayson and Jason Todd.” It did kinda support his Batman-theory, though, that Jason was there, because of course Red Robin couldn’t reach Batman then. 

Red Robin shrugged. “You didn’t ask. And it doesn’t matter, we’re going to save them all anyway.”

Well, no arguing with that, Clark supposed. 

 

* * *

 

Clark didn’t have any training on how to be the Batman. He met the guy a few times, worked with him on the Luthor-case, but he didn’t study him like he probably should have. He just knew Batman was a pretty cool guy and also had a thing for being as dramatic as humanly possible.

So he kicked in the doors and strolled in, making sure his cape was bellowing as much as it could without any actual wind.

Red Robin was a pulling face behind him, but he certainly had the attention of the whole room.

“I heard you were looking for me?” he growled in his best Batman voice imitation, swaggering into the room, and shocking the bad guys into silence. 

He immediately spotted the three Waynes staring at him incredulously, and he resisted the urge to smile and wave. Instead, he kept growling at the bad guys. 

“Here I am. We gonna party or what?” he said. Behind him, Red Robin winced. 

In the meantime, the bad guys had recovered from their shock, and the main baddie laughed. 

“Hell yeah man, we gonna party alright!” he said and started shooting at Clark. The other five followed his example.

The bullets, of course, did exactly nothing to stop Clark, who made sure to shield Red Robin from them. 

The bad guys ran out of bullets soon, and Red Robin made short work of them, but missed the knife the last bad guys standing drew, stabbing a distracted Clark right in the face.

Which, of course, did nothing. Again. The knife clattered to the floor and a very frightened bad guy stared up at the imposing figure of the Batman.

“Who are you, man?” he whispered, and Clark gleefully took his chance.

“I am vengeance,” he began, lifting the bad guy from the ground, “I am the night!” he continued, “I am-”

“-floating!” Clark’s sensitive ears picked up Red Robin’s voice from the other end of the room. 

Ah. Right. He had overdone it a bit, hadn’t he? He quickly got his feet on the ground again, hoping no one had taken notice of the big bat floating through the room. The bad guy, meanwhile, had passed out from shock, and Clark laid him softly on the floor, then turned around to look at the Waynes.

There were far too many emotions on Bruce’s face to decipher, but Dick and Jason clearly had put two and two together and were straining to hold back their laughter. Well, at least Jason wasn’t mad he’d used the costume. 

He strolled over to Bruce Wayne and held out a hand to help him stand up.

“Mr. Wayne, if I may?” he said, smiling, before remembering he was _Batman_. He pulled his hand back quickly, just as Bruce was about to grab it, and he hit the ground with a dull _oomph_.

 

Red Robin chose that moment to intervene. “Quick Batman!” he said running up, “this way!” and before Bruce could get a word in, Clark and Red Robin were gone. 

 

Unbeknownst to them, the picture someone had snapped of Bruce Wayne falling on his rear after Batman retracted his hand would make the newspapers the next day.

Right next to the picture of Batman floating half a meter above the ground. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Errr okay, so to recap (my poor brain):  
> Dick, Jason, and Red Robin know that Clark is Superman.  
> Clark hasn't met Red Hood or Tim Drake yet.  
> Also, Clark thinks that Jason might be Batman and that Nightwing kinda wants him dead. Or something.  
> Damian is off... somewhere. Probably playing fetch with Titus.  
> Bruce has no idea whatsoever.


	6. We all live in Penguin's submarine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have some fluff :)

A month. He’d been a fugitive at Wayne Manor for a whole month now. 

Clark sighed deeply and swirled the wine in his glass. It didn’t do anything for him, of course, but Bruce sat in the chair next to him, sipping his own wine, and they were watching the fireplace in silence. 

His stay here had been interesting at first, but now he felt more and more caged. Dick and Jason covered for him, so that he could go out as Superman, but he missed working at the Daily Planet and just walking around town. Batman had assured him that it wouldn’t take long now to clean his name, but Clark was beginning to get restless.

He sighed again, and felt a hand on his knee. He looked up into Bruce’s clear eyes.

“I’m sure Batman’s investigation will be finished soon,” Bruce said. “Then you can go home again.”

A corner of Clark’s mouth lifted. “Thank you. Please don’t get me wrong, I like it here and I’m very grateful. It’s just…”

“I understand,” Bruce said, smiling slightly. “I’m sure I’d feel like a caged animal in your situation.”

Clark laughed quietly. “You’re not wrong, yes. But I do enjoy these quiet evenings. Just sitting next to the fireplace, drinking wine, talking. That’s, well. Surprisingly nice.”

“It is, isn’t it? I must admit, I hadn’t thought you’d turn out to be as pleasant a company as you had,” Bruce said, sounding sheepish.

Clark grinned. “And I have to admit that you aren’t that much of an airhead as I thought you’d be,” he said, teasingly. 

Bruce smirked. “Don’t tell the press.”

Clark’s grin widened. “I _am_ the press, you know?”

“Oh,” Bruce pondered that. “Well, how about I don’t tell you’ve got Superman pajamas and you don’t tell about me being not that much of an idiot?”

Clark blinked. “How do you know I have-- Oh. Dick told you?” he said, sounding a bit uncertain, which Bruce didn’t seem to notice, thankfully.

The Billionaire grinned again. “He did. Said he’d caught you in a Superman shirt to sleep in.”

Clark licked his lips. “Did he tell you anything else…?” he asked carefully.

Bruce tilted his head. “Uh, I think he said it was a really tight shirt..?”

Clark nodded, relieved. He could live with that, as long as Dick hadn’t exposed the extent of why he was wearing a Superman shirt.

They fell into silence again, the nice kind of silence. 

“Let’s go for a drive,” Bruce said, out of nowhere. “It’s dark outside, nobody will see you. You said it yourself, the walls seem to be closing in, time to get out.”

Clark eyed him. “Are you drunk?”

Bruce rolled his eyes. “Please. I’ve had two sips of wine, the glass is still nearly full. Come on!”

Well. Why the hell not? 

“Lead the way, Mr. Wayne,” Clark grinned.

 

* * *

 

The Lamborghini, Clark thought as he tried not to tumble through the car, had similar qualities to the Batmobile in terms of flying over the roads.

Also, Bruce Wayne had a similar driving style to Red Robin in terms of being apparently suicidal. 

“When you said ‘let’s go for a drive’ I kinda thought we’d make it back again, you know?” he told Bruce accusingly. 

Bruce just laughed at him. 

“Where are we driving anyway?” Clark wasn’t worried for himself, of course. But Bruce Wayne didn’t strike him as the most, ah, mentally stable guy, to be perfectly honest. 

The Billionaire threw him a smirk. “You’ll see.” he said, and that was it. Clark shut up and let the lunatic drive.

The came to a halt on a cliff by the sea just outside Gotham City. Clark was confused as the left the car. 

“What are we doing here?” he whispered, seemingly afraid to disturb the dark.”

“Just follow me down. There are some conveniently placed rocks, so that we can climb down without any issues,” Bruce said, shouldering a backpack and a flashlight, and marching down the cliffside.

Clark had no idea why they were here, in the middle of night, some place far off, alone. He looked up in the night sky, lit by all the stars you couldn’t see in the city, then shrugged and followed his friend. 

When he arrived, Bruce had already set out some blankets and was in the process of lighting up a fire with wood he’d found in a small cabin. The place was directly by the sea with the waves quietly brushing the sand. It seemed peaceful and relaxing. 

Clark sat down on one of the blankets and watched Bruce fanning the fire until it grew enough to spend warmth and light. Then the billionaire sat down next to him. 

They were silent for some time, before Bruce spoke up.

“It’s a privat beach. I come here when I want to, well. Not hide per se, but yeah. Get out, relax for a bit,” he said.

Clark blinked at him, surprised. “Do your kids know about it?”

“Of course they do,” Bruce laughed. “They all come here, too, though Jason and Damian would never admit to needing a time out sometimes.” 

Clark smiled. That sounded like them, yes. 

“So when you’re here, you just, what. Sit around, read a book?”

“I eat s’mores,” Bruce said with a straight face.

Clark laughed. “Sure you do.”

Bruce just opened his backpack to reveal all you need to make s’mores. “Want some?”

Clark gaped at him as Bruce made the first one and handed it to him. 

“You’re full of surprises,” Clark said, munching through numbers two to five in record time. “I would never have thought posh billionaire Bruce Wayne ate s’mores at a campfire as a child.”

Bruce shrugged. “I didn’t. That wasn’t exactly the kind of upbringing I had, you’re right about that.”

Clark stopped eating and looked at him. “Well, how come then we’re here now?”

Bruce glanced at Clark and smiled slightly. “I kinda-sorta adopted a circus kid when I was in my mid-twenties. He showed me some basic life skills. Like campfires. And s’mores.”

Clark thought about that and nodded. “Well, I’ll tell Dick then that his lessons were a success. This stuff is heavenly!”

“I know,” Bruce said and made more. 

 

* * *

 

The embers of the fire were still glowing with the two of them lying on the blankets next to it and watching the sunrise, when Clark suddenly frowned and sat up.

Bruce, whose shoulder had been pressed against Clark’s, was instantly alarmed. 

“What is it?” he asked

Clark shook his head. “I’m not sure, I thought I’d heard something, but…” he broke off and his eyes widened.

There were people coming out of the water in diver’s suits and immediately aimed their weapons at the two of them. Next to him, Bruce tensed and looked around, maybe to find an out.

There was none, Clark had checked. They wouldn’t be able to go anywhere with those weapons on them. Well, and with a secret identity to protect. Bruce was one thing, but Clark really couldn’t risk to expose his secret to some henchmen with guns. So he did the only thing he could do, and stepped in front of Bruce. If those guys decided to shoot, they were in for a surprise.

At least that was the plan. He hadn’t exactly counted on Bruce stepping in front of _him_ again. 

“What are you doing? Get behind me!” Clark whispered and stepped in front of Bruce.

“Shut up, I got this! _You_ get behind _me_!” Bruce whispered back and stepped in front of him again. 

“The shoot, you die,” Clark whisper-yelled and shoved Bruce back.

“Same to you,” Bruce said, gripping Clark’s arms and turning them around.

“Don’t be stupid,” Clark grunted, using the momentum to dance to the front again. 

“I know what I’m doing!” Bruce hissed and tried to trip Clark, who hopped over Bruce’s foot.

“As do I,” he hissed back, “look, I’m Super-”

“Nyagnyagnyagnyag,” a quacking laugh came from the seaside. “What have we here? Looks like bounty nyagnyagnyagnyag!”

Clark looked at Bruce. Bruce looked at Clark. Together they turned and looked at the Penguin standing there in all his glory, umbrella pointed threateningly at them. 

“I suggest you two lovebirds come on board now. Otherwise my boys will be forced to shoot you nyagnyagnyagnyag!”

Bruce frowned. “On board? But there is no- oh.”

A periscope with a penguin head came out of the sea, followed by the rest of a small submarine.

Clark sighed. Gotham. 

 

* * *

 

 “So exactly how often do you get kidnapped or taken hostage?” Clark asked, squirming in the cuffs binding his hands in front of him. Well. Binding them as long as he was careful not to break the cuffs at least. 

Bruce shrugged. “Actually not that often, it’s usually more my kids. Most villains figure they threaten them and I send money.”

“Do you? Send the money?” Clark asked.

“Nah, I send the Batman,” Bruce smirked and Clark laughed.

“Nyagnyagnyagnyag very funny nyagnyagnyag,” Penguin quacked grumpily and pointed at Clark. “We will see if you’re still laughing when I give you to Lex Luthor nyagnyagnyag.”

“Lex Luthor?” Clark blinked. “...why?”

Penguin grinned evily. “Oh, you don’t know nyagnyag? He’s put a bounty on your head.”

“...why?” Clark asked.

“So that he can deliver you to the Police nyagnyag.”

“Huh,” Clark said.

“And for your information,” Penguin said, turning to Bruce, “I’m counting on Batman showing up, so that I can finally get rid of him nyagnyagnyagnyag!” he quacked and waddled out of the door. 

“Well,” Clark said. “That was… something.”

“Just stay calm. Nothing will happen to you,” Bruce tried to soothe him. “I’m sure someone will show up and save us.”

Clark nodded. 

 

* * *

 

Well, Clark thought, if Batman could hurry and show up, that’d be great.

“I’m bored,” he complained to Bruce, who looked vaguely amused.

“You’d rather they’d torture us?” he asked.

Clark whined. “Maybe? It’s been, like, a week and all they do is throw bread and bottled water at us. Where’s the entertainment?”

“It’s been a day, Clark,” Bruce said, now even sounding amused. “Not even that. Give it some time.”

Clark just grunted and sipped some water. 

The door opened and the Penguin stepped inside.

“Gentlemen, if I could have your attention nyagnyag? Sadly, Batman hasn’t shown up yet, so Mr. Wayne will be our guest a bit longer nyagnyag. The delivery for Lex Luthor will leave us within the hour nyagnyag. Enjoy the rest of your stay,” he quacked and slammed the door close again.

Clark looked at Bruce. “Well. I hate to rush things and all, but I do think we should try to leave on our own?”

“Agreed,” Bruce said and stood up, cuffs falling from his hands and ankles. Clark gaped at him.

“How did you..?” 

Bruce held up lock pick and smirked. 

“I won’t even ask why you had that with you, but why didn’t you use it before?” Clark grumbled.

Bruce shrugged. “Waited for the right moment.”

“The most dramatic moment, you mean,” Clark accused. 

Bruce didn’t deny it. “Let me open your cuffs,” he said instead.

Just as Clark offered his bound wrists, the door flew open with a bang and a guy in a leather jacket and a red helmet appeared, a large gun in his hands.

Clark immediately jumped up, breaking his cuffs in the process, and proceeded to step in front of Bruce, who in turn, of course, stepped in front of him. Again.

“Bruce!” he hissed, “get behind me we don’t know what this guy is- uuh.”

Clark just blinked as Bruce grabbed the guy’s hand and shook it, before turning around to look at him.

“Clark Kent, this is Red Hood. He’s an associate of Batman, so we can consider ourselves saved,” Bruce said.

“Uhm,” Clark said, unsure if he should shake the guy’s hand.

The guy, to his credit, awkwardly held out his hand after Bruce clapped him on the shoulder. 

Clark shook it. “Uh. What about Penguin?” he asked.

Red Hood shrugged. “Flew away with his umbrella.”

Clark nodded. Gotham. 

 

* * *

 

After getting back to the Manor first in the Batboat and then the Lamborghini, Clark sank into the comfortable chair by the fireplace. Bruce joined him a couple of minutes later with two mugs of steaming hot coffee in his hands. 

“Aren’t you tired?” Clark asked, accepting the mug.

“A bit, but still mostly running on adrenaline,” Bruce answered, taking a sip.

Clark looked at him and the deep circles under his eyes. “Thanks for today. It was fun,” he grinned slightly.

Bruce blinked. “Fun? We got kidnapped. I’m so sorry that happened to you! If we hadn’t gone out- No. If I hadn’t convinced you to go to that beach, then-”

It was Clark’s turn to put a hand on the other’s knee. “Hey, it’s alright. Okay, so fun might have been the wrong term, at least for the kidnapping part. But I did enjoy the night before that, and, well. It’s not like anyone got hurt, so yeah. Thanks,” he said and smiled at Bruce, who visibly relaxed.

“I do have to admit, I was rather impressed with you, mild mannered reporter Clark Kent,” Bruce said, looking at him. “I’m really used to getting kidnapped, but you? I mean, I would have thought you’d be terrified.”

Clark blushed a bit and said nothing.

“There’s one thing, though,” Bruce continued. “Your cuffs.”

Clark tilted his head. “What about them?”

Bruce frowned at him. “How did you open them? I didn’t do it.”

Clark’s eyes widened. “Uh,” he said, thinking on his feet and finally settling on “Red Hood helped me.”

Bruce’s eyes narrowed. “Is that so?”

Clark nodded frantically.

“Hn,” Bruce said, leaned back and took another sip.

He didn’t say anything about Clark’s hand never leaving his knee.


	7. Clark's not boring, very eventful night

When conflicted between fight or flight, Clark’s first reaction, being decently strong, would always be fight. So it took him a good amount of restraint not to punch the Batman to hell and back and off the bedpost where he was crouching like a gargoyle. 

“Don’t _do_ that!” Clark huffed, clutching his chest. “I might have hurt you!”

“... sure…,” Batman said slowly, not moving an inch.

Clark had long since given up on waiting for the Dark Knight to elaborate anything without being prompted, so he sat up and leaned against the headboard.

“What is it I can help you with?” he asked, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

“I’ve got a lead,” Batman said.

Clark blinked. “O~kay? So why are you here?”

Batman grunted. “You need to come with me.”

Clark had also long since given up on waiting for the Dark Knight to elaborate anything in general, so he just got out of bed and went to get some dark clothes. Batman stopped him.

“Here,” he said, throwing a bag at Clark, who instinctively caught it.

“What’s this?” Clark frowned. “Even darker and stealthier clothes?”

Batman cleared his throat. “Not quite.”

 

* * *

 

“Is this really necessary?” Clark squirmed in his seat, uncomfortable. 

“Yes.” Batman replied, racing the Batmobile through Gotham in a similar manner Bruce Wayne had driven the Lamborghini, only with more smoke and explosives. 

“...why?” Clark asked, helplessly trying to use his cape to cover more of himself. 

Batman grunted. “Think about it. Clark Kent can’t be seen in Gotham, especially not with me. It would be too dangerous. But _Robin_ can.”

“In case you haven’t noticed: the current Robin is, like, not even half my height!” Clark hissed.

Batman shrugged. “Like you said, the _current_ Robin. People are used to different sized Robins.”

“None was ever taller than you! Also, I know for a fact the current Robin has normal clothes and not… Hot Pants and Pixie Boots!” Clark said, grimacing, and still trying to wrap himself in his cape.

“Sure, but now you kind of pass for the first Robin, all grown up,” Batman said and… grinned? Was that a grin? Clark narrowed his eyes at him. Hn. 

“Fine.” Clark harrumphed. 

They parked the Batmobile a few minutes later nearby one of the warehouses by the harbour, and got out. The water lay dark and quiet, the warehouse itself was dark, too, so they sneaked around the building to find an unguarded entrance.

Clark had no idea what kind of lead Batman had, but he didn’t exactly care either. The costume wouldn’t have been his first choice - and Batman had kinda leered at him after he had put it on, weirdly enough - but this? Sneaking around in the middle of the night with the Dark Knight? This was fun! Granted, he would also have been up to cuddling with Bruce on the sofa, sure, but he was really glad to get outside again, so this was right up his alley. Which brought up the question - why him? The question could have waited, yes, but the warehouse seemed empty enough and he was curious.

“Batman?” Clark whispered.

“Hn.” Batman grunted quietly. 

“What exactly am I doing here?” Clark asked.

Batman stopped and tilted his head at him. “You're asking that _now_?”

Clark shrugged, and Batman sighed. 

“I might need another pair of hands,” the Dark Knight finally said.

Clark’s eyebrows went up. “That’s it? What about Robin?”

“It’s a school night.”

Okay, fair enough. “And Red Robin?”

“College.”

“Red Hood?”

“His exact words were ‘go fuck yourself’.”

“Nightwing?” Clark asked, even though he was still pretty confused about the young hero nearly letting him get dunked into acid.

“Asleep.” Batman said, and now was Clark’s turn to stop and look at him incredulously. 

“What? He’s got a day job, too,” Batman defended. 

Clark stared. “Okay, then why not ask Superman?”

Batman shook his head. “This is not the right job for Superman.”

“What? Why? And aren’t there any other heroes here? Why me? I’m just a reporter.” Clark crossed his arms. Something smelled fishy - did Batman know who he was?

The Dark Knight sighed. “Look. Can we do this after we’ve followed my lead?”

Clark raised an eyebrow and stayed put. 

Batman muttered something under his breath that even his ears couldn’t pick up right, but he was pretty sure the word “stubborn” made an appearance. 

“Fine, have it your way. Bruce Wayne thought you could use a little excitement and this seemed like an easy enough mission. Happy now? Let’s got.” Batman hissed and turned around, making his way to the warehouse’s entrance.

Clark stood there for a moment, dumbfounded. Then a smile grew on his face. Aww. He’ll have to make it up to Bruce. But first things first, he thought, and speed-walked up to and behind Batman. 

“So that’s the reason you didn’t ask Superman,” he smiled. “Mission is too easy.”

“No.” Batman grunted.

Clark furrowed his brow. “...but you just said..?”

“The mission is easy for you and me, yes, because if my source is correct, we’ll find my reason for infiltrating Lex Luthor’s party in the first place.”

“...which is?” Clark asked quietly, suddenly concerned, “what are you expecting to find here?”

“Hopefully Lex Luthor’s huge chunk of Kryptonite,” Batman grunted and looked at Clark. “So now you see why I couldn’t ask Superman? That thing would render him useless in seconds. Fortunately, it’s completely harmless to us, so don’t worry,” Batman said, and stepped inside the warehouse. 

Clark, meanwhile, contemplated burning the thing to the ground and let Batman look for the green rock in the rubbles while he made a run for the hills. 

Apparently he’d contemplated too long - a yelp sounded from inside the warehouse, followed by a hiss. Then it was quiet again. 

Clark gulped. Well, no time like the present to go look for trouble, he thought, and stepped inside-

 

-where he was immediately grabbed by a… tentacle? What? He didn’t have time to think about it when suddenly more and more things wrapped themselves around him and pinned him against a wall. It didn’t hurt, of course, but what the hell? He was about to show those things who’s boss, when the lights switched on and he looked around, blinking. 

The tentacles turned out to be plants, and on the other side of the room he could see Batman struggling against his own set of vines binding him to the wall. Unlike Clark’s, Batman’s mouth was covered by a vine, which was why Clark had only heard a short yelp. 

 

“Ooh, how nice of you to drop by,” a female voice said, and Clark craned his neck to look for it.

“Of course, it’s our pleasure,” he said. His Ma had taught him to always be polite, if at all possible. 

A pearly laugh sounded from his side and Clark blinked to his left, where a beautiful woman sat on a enormous rose petal. 

“I certainly hope so,” the woman said, smiling at him. “And who might _you_ be, gorgeous?” she asked in a silky voice.

“Robin,” Clark said. “Nice to meet you. I’d love to shake your hand, but, you know..” he said, wiggling his bound arms.

The woman raised her eyebrows. “Robin?” she blinked and looked him up and down. “Huh. I could have sworn you were shorter last time we saw each other,” she muttered.

“Growth spurt.” Clark said.

“Hm.” the woman said. “I’ve seen Robins growing up, but never that fast. So you must be a new Robin in an old costume? I love that! I really missed the pixie boots!” she grinned. “So tell me, _Robin_ , how would you like working for me?”

Clark blinked behind his mask. “I don’t even know you?”

The woman drew back, seemingly in shock, and turned around. “Batman! You didn’t tell him about me? I am disappointed!” she said, turning back to Clark.

“Honey, my name is Ivy. And you will work for me from now on,” she smiled and blew green mist at him.

Clark immediately panicked - Kryptonite mist? Nevermind being useless in the upcoming fight, that stuff could probably kill him! He tried not breathing, but it was too late, the mist made its way up his nostrils. Anytime now he’d feel the telltale weakening of Kryptonite poisoning. 

Really anytime now. 

Couldn’t be much longer.

He waited. 

Ivy finally furrowed her brows and blew more green mist at him.

Clark sneezed. 

“....hn,” Ivy muttered, “That usually works just fine. Well, I guess I have to give you a treat, don’t I?”

And then she kissed him. Clark’s eyes flew open. What? 

The kiss didn’t last long, and Ivy let him go, smiling. Her rose drew back and grew in the opposite direction, heading for Batman, leaving Clark still pinned to the wall and also now very much confused. 

Fortunately Ivy was now talking to a furious looking Batman, who’s mouth wasn’t covered by a vine anymore.

“What have you done to him?” Batman hissed, struggling in his plants. 

Ivy laughed. “Exactly what I will to with you now, Batsy. Make you my mindless slave,” she smiled.

Mindless slave? Clark didn’t feel like that at all. Her… stuff or whatever… apparently didn’t work on Kryptonians, so good for him. It must work on humans, though, and Batman was very much human, of that Clark was pretty sure. Which meant Ivy was about to- oh nonono not on his watch! 

“Ah, excuse me? Miss Ivy?” he said, causing Ivy to turn around in confusion. 

“How are you still able to talk without me prompting you?” she wondered aloud and made her way back.

Clark made sure to let a dreamy look cloud over his eyes and face. “I just have a question, Miss Ivy,” he said, smiling as mindlessly as he could. 

“Huh,” Ivy muttered. “Might have to kiss you once more. You’re a strong boy, Robin.” 

Clark smiled brightly. “Yes, please.” He could hear Batman growl on the other side of the room, but shrugged it off.

Ivy came closer, almost in kissing distance. “I knew you were special when I saw you,” she chirped. “And now I will-”

Clark headbutted her, softly, and just enough to knock her out. “Thanks, but no thanks,” he muttered. The plants shrank away as soon as Ivy was unconscious, and Batman immediately strode over.

“How?” he growled, and Clark shrugged.

“Not my type?” he tried.

Batman narrowed his eyes, but then seemed to let it go for the moment. “I don’t think there’s any Kryptonite here. It was just Ivy trying to get to me,” he grunted, and Clark couldn’t hold it in anymore.

“So all this for nothing?” he asked. “This was the third time in six weeks I’ve been kidnapped! First a guy with two half-faces, then a guy thinking he’s a penguin and now some creepy plant lady! What the hell is Gotham anyway? And what’s next? A giant Gorilla? Or maybe a reptile? How about psychotic clowns? Ugh!” 

 

The door flew open.

 

“Batsy!” the Joker said, strolling in. “We’ve expected you later! How rude!”

“Very rude! And Ivy started without us!” Harley Quinn chirped, holding two hyenas.

“That means we get to be rude, too,” Gorilla Grodd said from behind Harley.

“...so let’s be just that,” Killer Croc said, ducking through the door. 

 

Clark threw his hands in the air, gesturing wildly at the random selection of villains as if he wanted to say _what the absolute fuck_ but was too well raised to actually do so. 

Batman grunted. “There seems to be only one course of action at the moment,” he said.

Clark nodded and was preparing to shed his mild mannered reporter persona in order to go to town with the villains, when Batman grabbed him around the waist, threw a smoke bomb, and grappled through the glass ceiling with him, all before Clark even knew what was happening. 

Two minutes later, the Batmobile raced through the city. Clark blinked at Batman. 

“What was that?” he asked.

Batman’s mouth was a thin line. “A fight for another day.” he said, and Clark decided not to poke at it. He knew very well that if he hadn’t been there, Batman would have fought all those villains like the lunatic he was. Probably would have lost, too, against four opponents. 

Clark looked at the Dark Knight and made a decision.

 

The next day saw five supervillains miraculously back in Arkham Asylum, all babbling about how unfair it was for Superman to show up when they were only prepared to deal with Batman.

 

Clark grinned and cuddled closer to Bruce.


End file.
